


Blanc et Noir

by gothamurox



Series: Fondu au Noir [1]
Category: DCU
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, OC is Batman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothamurox/pseuds/gothamurox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is just trying his best, navigating his life as a high-profile CEO and community leader while trying to keep the common touch. But then...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blanc et Noir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InkofLethe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkofLethe/gifts).



Bruce Wayne was bored. He had gotten into his office early that morning to finish the budget report for Research and Development, but by the afternoon his schedule was clear, or as clear as the schedule of a CEO of a multibillion dollar corporation can get. Therefore, he had the time to go over to the Wayne Foundation building to check on his more charitable works. He liked to stay involved in the organization; helping people was important to him. 

That day, like every day, Wayne Foundation was interviewing candidates for financial aid. Organizations from across Gotham came to WF for financial assistance. 

He found a man there. He had blond hair, the sort you don't usually see in Gotham. He shone in the clean, modern halls of the Gothic building. His voice was deep and calming. 

“I only have the salary of a part time nurse at a public high school. As the sole regular sponsor, I feel like we need more support to continue doing our work.”

The Wayne Foundation employee asked. “And you believe that your work deserves our support?”

“Yes, or else I wouldn't be here.”

Bruce cut in. “I believe what Kelly was trying to ask was if and how your work effectively and competently address the needs of your community. Wayne Foundation needs to make  
sure its funds are not squandered. Many people come here for money but we need to make sure that our money is well spent. I'm sure you understand, Mister…?”

“Black. Call me Andrew. Bruce Wayne, I presume?”

“Glad to meet you. What are you applying for today?” 

“I run a free clinic near the Elliot School. I am the main physician.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“Yeah.”

“When did you finish you med school?”

“Just a few years ago. I went to Gotham U for my undergrad, but left the state for med school.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Went to Metropolis.”

“They have a great medical program.”

“Well, yeah, that's why I went there…”

Bruce laughed. “That makes sense.”

“It was accelerated, too. I wanted to get out of school as quickly as I could so I could help people, but I've found you need more than a degree to do good in Gotham.”  
Bruce could tell this one would go far. Though Mr. Black--Andrew--was only in the first stage of the interview process, he was charismatic, if subtle; intelligent, if understated. Men like him tended to do well, if only because they were likable. Ultimately, it would be the charity that determined whether they got the money or not. 

 

It was another late night at Wayne Enterprises. Bruce really needed to delegate more, but his employees already had enough to do, and he had some projects he wanted to work on. Specifically, the mass disseminator prototype on the 3rd floor--Bruce stopped. It was gone. Where had it—? The power had been cut. He turned to call the police when a shadowy figure descended. Batman spoke in a gravely voice. 

“What did you see?”

“N-nothing. I j-just got here.”

“What was here? What did they take?”

The vigilante was intense, and he cut an intimidating figure in the moonlight coming through the windows. 

“The mass disseminator prototype. The mass disseminator prototype was right here.”

Sirens could be heard in the distance. Bruce turned to look out the window, and when he turned back, Batman was gone. 

 

Drinking was always a bad idea, but Bruce never said he made good decisions, and another martini sounded like a great decision. 

“--and I am expecting that she will regret that decision, as the market shares for that industry are shrinking considerably—”

Maybe another would help. 

“Mister Wayne!” A voice rang out. 

He tried to turn towards the noise, but it was harder than he thought it would. He got dizzy, but a hand reached out and steadied him. 

“Andrew!” Bruce exclaimed excitedly. 

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Mister Wayne.”

“Call me Bruce!” 

“Okay, Bruce.” Andrew looked very judgmental. 

“Stop looking so…” Bruce waved his hands around Andrew’s face. “Judgey.”

“I'll look as judgey as I'd like to, I am a grown man. I can take care of myself.” He glanced at Bruce. “Though I suppose one does not imply the other.”

Bruce squinted. “Stop it. I can take care of me.”

“Sure.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes further. 

Andrew sighed. “I can't leave you here in good conscious.”

Bruce snorted. “Leaving me with these people would be against the Geneva Accords.” 

Andrew smiled. “I'm sure it's not that bad.”

“Shut up, Mr. Doctor. You don't understand how awful people can be.”

“You're right.”

 

He was a bit sleep deprived, but he’d sleep in on Saturday. Today he had work to do. The orphanage was moving in a hundred new beds and they needed them set up yesterday. He’d been here since noon and still wasn't anywhere close to done. Earlier there had been more workers, but as the hours passed the crowd lessened till it was just Bruce moving furniture as the sun set. The nuns had all gone inside to send the children off to bed and a stillness had settled in. It felt almost meditative. Bruce was hit with a sudden wave of drowsiness and collapsed to the ground. 

 

“Wakey wakey.” 

Bruce was out of it, his head was swimming. 

A hand struck him across the face.

“Wake up already.”

His vision came into a brief focus, long enough to see the beautiful redhead in front of him glaring. 

“Where is the other mass disseminator prototype?” 

She didn't make any sense. Words weren't coming together in his head. She only got more frustrated. 

“Where is it? You know! I know you know!”

She was becoming manic. He wanted to comfort her, help her. He tried to reach out, but his hand wouldn't go. 

“Tell me! I can hurt you, you know? Hurt you like you hurt my plants. Kill you.” 

Something was off. The shadows were strange, moving. He attempted to focus on them as the undulated in an unexplained wind. 

“My plants can kill you. They will. Or you could tell me where it is.”

Her voice had changed, but Bruce couldn't tell how. Perhaps it was the musicality of it. That sounded right. 

The shadows made their move. Bruce embraced them. 

 

He felt awful and the bright lights weren't helping. 

“Hey, are you alright?” 

A blond head popped into his vision. 

“Yeah, I guess. Could do with some pain meds.”

“I've got a few. Let me get them.”

The man exited the room. Bruce looked around. The room was a little small and run down, but clearly well-cared for. Not the sort of hospital he usually goes to, but if it works, it works. 

“Here, Bruce. These should help.” Bruce turned to the man. “You sure you're alright?”

“Yeah, but… Um… Where am I?”

“I took you back to my clinic.”

That was a strange answer. “Your clinic?”

The man sent him a look. “Uh-huh… My clinic.” Bruce sent him a blank look. “You know, my clinic? The one I applied for aid for?” 

“Do I know you?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 1 of a series! Hope you liked it. More to come.
> 
> [Edit]  
> So this was inspired by a post that suggested that people in Gotham didn't know Bruce Wayne was Batman and would write fanfiction shipping them. This is that fanfiction.


End file.
